


Feel

by Omnicat



Category: Gundam 00
Genre: 14-Year-Old/24-Year-Old, Age Difference, Drunk Sex, F/M, Gundam 00 Kink Meme, Lemon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wall Sex, Zero-gravity sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/pseuds/Omnicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk Lockon doesn’t know what he’s doing, but neither does sober Felt. The feelings he awakens in her are as intoxicating as any liquor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel

Felt panted. Her arms floated at her sides, her body limp, and her eyes, wide and unseeing, were on the ceiling. Zero gravity prevented her knees from buckling, but it was _him_ who made her feel heavy, weak. Felt tried to be numb to the sensations, but she had never had physical contact this intimate before, hadn’t had much physical contact at all for as long as she could remember, it was just so much and she had never felt like this before and it felt... good.  
  
"L - Lockon?" She felt a hand on her behind, strong fingers at the nape of her neck holding her head up, and a pair of lips worked its way along her jaw. "Locko-oh..."  
  
Felt moaned faintly, her eyes closing. Her lower body was pressed into hot and firm planes and angles, her upper body curved to expose her neck, her skin tingling where a lapping tongue and sucking mouth had left a trail of saliva; there was a sensitive spot she had never known about right next to her windpipe.  
  
"You have too many clothes..." he murmured indistinctly, his hand sliding down, then up, then down again, from her hairline to her shoulderblade to her upper arm to her collarbone to the zipper of her yellow over-suit, between her breasts. "They’re in the way."

Lockon’s intoxication was palpable in the fumbling of his hand, audible in the slurr of his voice, proven by the smell of sweet brandy hanging around him like a cloud, clogging her nostrils and drowning out the scent of his body.  
  
"In the... way? Lockon -"  
  
Felt trembled all over. Keeping her body still under his hands and lips was self-inflicted torture, but she didn’t dare move. His chin heavy on her shoulder and his breath hot against the back of her neck, Lockon slowly, torturously, pulled the zipper down, through the valley of her breasts, across the expanse of her stomach, until there was no more to zip. His hand hit the belt around her waist and fumbled with it, his knuckles ghosting over her abdomen as if to tease her. The belt went sailing across the room and his hands brushed along her hips and disappeared inside her suit, underneath her purple turtleneck undershirt, creaping up, up, and up.  
  
"In the way..." he breathed against her skin.  
  
Felt was a smart girl. She caught on to things quickly. She had known _this_ to be a bad idea from the very start. Lockon had sought solace in Ms Sumeragi’s liquor cabinet before she, Felt, had been able to leave the bridge and offer it to him, which should have been enough. It should have ended with that. He shouldn’t need her anymore, shouldn’t have pulled her inside or locked the door or pulled her closer to him than was appropriate for friends. But he had. His intentions were clear, and Felt was all too inclined to imagine ahead of his real actions. She had detected butterflies in her stomach ever since Lockon had told her his true name, had felt unbidden thoughts and fantasies evade her mind, and she had nutrured them, against her own better judgement, thinking herself safe in the knowledge that nothing would come of it, just wanting to _feel_.  
  
Her breasts sprang free from the confines of her shirt and bounced up and down in the weightless atmosphere. Lockon pushed the over-suit from her shoulders, out of the way, and cupped the soft flesh greedily, nudging one of her pigtails aside to gain access to her neck.

"Lockon!" Felt gasped, eyelids fluttering and mind reeling. She’d been wrong. But if wrong was false, did that make it right? No, it wasn’t right, it couldn’t be. Lockon was tall and muscular and strong, in his twenties, if not thirties. Felt, for all her prodigous brilliance, was small and frail, fourteen years old, unworldly and inexperienced and she couldn’t remember feeling anything this intense ever before.  
  
"That’s better."  
  
His hands were large and her breasts were small; he kneaded for only a few moments before abandoning that course of action. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her body aching, arching, trying to regain contact with him, as if with his touches and kisses he had created a magnet inside her that was drawn to him and only him. The feeling ignited in the split second before his hands returned, but it exploded when he lifted her up by the waist and pinned her to the wall, sending shockwaves of liquid fire from the place where his fingers touched her bare skin, looping through the pit of her stomach before flaring out to her toes and the tips of her fingers and the roots of her hair.

Felt cried out - "Lockon!" -, her eyes flying open when the lips that had disappeared from her earlobe descended on her breast. She could feel his mouth, hot and wet around one nipple, his tongue twisting circles around the bud, and his thumb on the other, mirroring the movements of his tongue.  
  
This was wrong, there was no way this was right, _but it felt so good_. The tingling of her skin, the fluttering in her lower belly, the warm pulse between her legs, the aching for closeness - the sensations were foreign, intoxicating, mind-numbing. She was like a moth drawn to a flame, a leaf pulled along by a current, a deer paralyzed by the headlights, a star caught in the gravity of a black hole. If she let him do this, a remnant of reason in the back of her mind knew, she would be scorched, she would drown, she would be crushed and swallowed whole, _this was wrong!_ But the pull was already too strong, it was so hard to think clearly, _it felt so good..._  
  
"So good..." he echoed. She felt the words - lips drawing tantalizing patterns on her breast and sending vines of elextricity to her groin - more than she heard them. Lockon’s free hand moved from Felt’s waist to her hip, on along her thigh, to the back of her knee, and pulled her leg up around him, and it felt so right, it felt so good.  
  
And Felt collapsed onto him, wrapping both legs tightly around his waist, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his hair. He stumbled backwards and instinctively brought his arms around her as she curled up against him. She could feel a bulge beneath his belt and wriggled down against it, drawing a hiss from him even as she herself gasped from the results of the friction.  
  
Steadying his wobbling, he pulled her tightly against him and crushed her breasts against his collar bone when he smacked her back against the wall with an audible _thump_. He forcefully tangled a hand into her hair, undoing her pigtails in the process, forced her head up while tilting his own down, and caught her mouth in a hot, wet kiss.  
  
Lightning struck. Or at least that was what the small part of Felt that was not filled with a blinding white light imagined must have happened, given how impossible it had seemed, even mere moments before, when the novel sensations overwhelmed her, for such a small, simple touch to have such enormous effects.  
  
She could smell alcohol, and for a moment the thought crossed Felt’s mind that while it had taken two bottles and half a glass for it to strip Lockon of his inhibitions, the smell alone had been enough for it to conquer her. But then Lockon’s tongue forced its way into her awe-slackened mouth and started running along the inside of her lips, and all else disappeared from her mind.  
  
Rationality, caution and conscious thought fled before the onslaught of sensory experiences, making her mind and memory hazy and leaving her body to be operated by her most primal instincts. Later, she would remember flashes; her own tongue coming out to meet his, burying her fingers into his hair, his hard chest flush against her as he rubbed his groin against hers, his hands all over her hips and legs as he unfastened her boots, bare thighs wrapped around his naked chest, fingers inside her panties, inside _her_ , banging her head against the wall in sink with the grinding of the palm of his hand into her mons veneris, tasting herself on his fingers right before realising he’d dropped his pants at last, a feeling like blacking out when he filled her in one swift, fluid motion, because she was so far gone that pain and pleasure no longer had a deviding line, panting, gasping, moaning, whimpering, screaming, rasping _"Neil, Neil, Neil"_ over and over again as he continued to pound in and slide out and thrust her further into the throws of extacy, coming to on a sofa, Lockon’s arm draped over her shoulders and goosebumps lining her skin.  
  
She extracted herself from his loose hold carefully and held on to the sofa as not to float away. Looking down on the unconscious Gundam Meister she felt such a jumble of emotions that it was impossible to determine which feelings were dominant. She was exhausted, felt sticky, and her pubic area throbbed painfully when she moved her legs, but she forced herself to dress properly and redo her hair, so no-one would notice anything had happened. With any luck, Lockon would not remember what they had done when he woke up.  
  
She dressed him, too, even locating the gloves and jacket he had discarded before she arrived. Her hand lingered on his cheek before she left to get a long shower and disappear into her quarters. With any luck, Lockon would think it had been but a dream. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on older fics will ALWAYS remain welcome.


End file.
